


The Multiverse Jump

by ReneeTheAngelAndPartTimeRareBookDealer



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Brotherly Angst, Drinking, I love him, Loki (Marvel)-centric, Post-Endgame, Unresolved Emotional Tension, before y'all start, listen I'm about to be on some loki bullshit, lying, odinsons reunion, plus guardians!, which are?, you don't have all the facts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-07-28 07:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20060524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReneeTheAngelAndPartTimeRareBookDealer/pseuds/ReneeTheAngelAndPartTimeRareBookDealer
Summary: God of Mischief, now smug owner of the Tesseract, finds himself in what is perhaps his worst drunk mishap yet. Thrust into space, with his brother no less, Loki must confront the reality of where he is, when he is, and what he plans to do about it.Updates whenever I get my shit together!





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a one shot that spiraled into a multi-chapter story once I sat down and started thinking about where I want the new Loki series to go. It'll probably never happen, though, seeing as the mcu hates Loki lmao. Anyways, enjoy!

Everything happened, as is usually the case with Loki, in a blur. 

The last thing the god of mischief recalled was attending a party in 20th century New York. Ever since evading the avengers with the tesseract, he had committed himself to the sole pursuit of pleasure. He figured that Midgard and the mortals that plagued it could provide some entertainment. 

The new wealth of the 1920’s certainly knew how to throw a party. 

He remembers three things about that night: drinking, heavily; the passionate embrace of an eager young body in what he surmised was a closet (man or woman, he was unsure, though that hardly mattered); and, of course, his damned demonstration. 

After one too many drinks — Rickeys made with bathtub gin to be exact — Loki had haphazardly climbed atop the nearest table and proclaimed, to the entire party, that he possessed the power to teleport. 

The crowd — beautiful, wealthy, and more drunk than him — had laughed, loud and riotous. To them, this gorgeous newcomer was gracing them with an elaborate joke. 

The god’s smile, however, vanished at the sound, quickly replaced by his signature scowl. 

“I can prove it,” he’d boasted. Patting his pockets as he smugly observed the crowd. When it was clear that he possessed nothing save his charm and good looks, he cursed.

“By the Norns,” he groaned. “Has anyone seen my coat?” 

A delicate hand raised the remaining piece of his tuxedo above the masses, and Loki grabbed it desperately. Plunging his hand into the inside pocket, it reappeared clutching a bright blue cube. 

The drunken giggles subsided as the crowd grew took notice — the god now had their full and undivided attention. He smirked knowingly at the sight, thinking, _they always were built to worship. _

“Watch closely,” he instructed. The cube in his hands flared blindingly bright, a hum filled the hall, and then the man was gone. 

The crowd stared in disbelief at the spot he had once occupied. They were sure he existed just a moment ago. Could swear that he was standing right there. Already, his name and what he looked like were fading from memory. All that survived their drunken stupor was the image of green eyes and a sinful grin. 

A crash sounded from somewhere in the grand house and the band resumed their playing. The crowd raised their glasses to the stars, and the party continued. 


	2. Drunk & Disorderly Conduct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitches still be crying over Loki's death in Infinity War. It's me. I'm bitches.

It is while this party continued that Loki was unceremoniously thrust a century into the future, galaxies away from a now healing New York.

He fell to the cold floor, the tesseract slipping from his grasp, and groaned. Loudly and dramatically, as was his nature. 

A sudden snore interrupted the throbbing in his head, and the god instinctively hid. His characteristic stealth now reduced to a drunken, and not at all subtle, roll behind a crate of what looked to be scrap metal. 

A dim light illuminated the space, and his eyes followed it to the source. Stars burned beyond the window. If his eyes were to be trusted — which they weren’t — he was in space. 

Another snore punctured the quiet of the ship.

Loki was not alone. 

In the far corner of the room, a body laid in a makeshift hammock. Slowly, he made his way over to it. Oddly enough, the man resembled his brother. Shorter hair, certainly more scarred, and a bit thicker around the waist, but possessing the same powerful build nonetheless. He scanned the room once more — no hammer. 

When he turned back to the man, blue eyes stared back at him. Well, _a_ blue eye. Singular.

“Loki?” The stranger asked, his voice the low rumble of thunder. 

The god in question flinched back into the shadows. _No,_ he thought. This couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. Last he’d seen Thor, his brother was a full fledged avenger. He had a mane of blonde hair. Loki was _certain_ he’d possessed two eyes. 

A sharp stab of pain reminded him of how acutely drunk he was at the moment and he winced. 

The man was sitting up now, squinting into the darkness and rubbing the sleep from his eye. Loki was overcome with an uncomfortable sense of dread. No, the person before him could _not_ be his brother. This man looked broken, hollow. It couldn’t be Thor. It couldn’t. 

“Loki?” He asked again, quiet and unsure now. 

_I can leave_, the god thought. _Take the tesseract and warp as far as possible-_

His thought was cut short when he realized that, for the second time that night, he’d misplaced the damned cube. Before he could even regret releasing an annoyed sigh, he found himself pinned to the ground. 

The stranger above him was pure muscle, and too heavy to push off. Loki’s hands were securely held down at his sides and he couldn’t concentrate enough to summon his knives. The whole scenario was very reminiscent of the spars he used share with his brother, but Loki refused to acknowledge that.

Even drunk, he could feel the tension in the man's body; could see his eye scanning his face frantically and hear his shallow breaths. 

“Is it really you?” The brute asked.

Loki didn’t miss the slight tremor in his words. They shook with fear, and the barest hint of hope. 

Vulnerability was a sentiment the god was unaccustomed to. In fact, he resented it. Anything requiring honesty and empathy from him was an event he promptly left. The man who’s knee was currently crushing his abdomen had the audacity to ask all three of him. So, thoroughly drunk and powerless, Loki resorted to his usual tricks — snark and venom. 

“You _dare_ harass a member of the Asgardian royal family?” He hissed. 

To his dismay, the burly man above him laughed. It was full and loud, just like his brother’s. The god seized his opportunity and once more tried to break free. His opponent relented easily, rolling off of him with another rich laugh. 

This upset Loki even more. “Care to reveal what’s so funny?” 

“Such haughtiness,” the stranger laughed, “coming from an adopted prince.” Tears were beginning to spill from his eye, and the god bristled at his words. “You’re showmanship is as impressive as always, Loki. I’ve missed it.” 

A silence descended upon the two, and not the kind Loki favored. He stood, leaned against the nearby wall, and crossed his arms.

“You lie,” he said curtly.

Another low chuckle. “No, that’s your area of expertise, I believe. Isn’t it, brother?” 

The man turned his head to glance at the shadow on the wall, blue eye meeting green as they considered each other. Both knowing very well who they spoke to, and grappling with the absurdity of it all. 

Loki was the first to look away. 

“You're not Thor.” 

“You may be right about that,” the man sighed.

“Of course I am,” Loki shot back.

The man who claimed to be his brother stood, a new air of indifference weighing down his shoulders as he walked. “I tire of this game, Loki,” he said, falling back into the hammock. He made a point of turning his back to the god. “If I dream, let it be over quickly.”

The words were soft, but their bitterness unmistakable.

Loki’s harsh laugh rose to meet it. “Oh, so now you think me no more than a subconscious pest?” 

“Trust me, brother,” came his muffled reply. “You’d rather I believe this than the alternative.”

“And why is that?”

“_Because_,” the man’s voice boomed, “the alternative is that you’re alive. Have been this whole time.” The air began to hum with electricity, and Loki fought the urge to look for mjölnir again. “And if that’s true,” the man continued, “I’m going to kill you myself.” 

This caught the god’s attention. Death threats were as familiar to him as his sacred knives, and while Loki would love to address it directly, he couldn’t help but poke at the man’s earlier statement. _Me? Dead?_ He thought. _Not if I have a say in the matter. _

“Preposterous,” he said aloud. “I’m very much alive. Here I stand, breathing and speaking, you oaf. Is that remaining eye of yours blind?” 

Evidently, this was the wrong thing to say. Within the next few moments, the charge in the air found an outlet, lightning shot up the man’s forearms, and he exploded.

“You _died!_” He shouted. “I _saw_ you die! Watched as Thanos squeezed the life out of you, and I was powerless to stop it!” He was close enough now that Loki could see the flashes of electricity coursing through his veins. “I held your broken body in space until I couldn’t,” his voice cracked. The last remnants of lightning weaved between his fingertips as the man tried to keep himself from breaking down completely. They flickered out as he took a final, shuddering breath. “And I watched you slip,” he continued, “_lifeless_, into the cosmos.” 

Loki held his breath. The display had quickly sobered him up, and it was getting increasingly difficult to deny the man before him. He was not the Thor he knew. This was not the person he grew up with, not the warrior he coveted, and not the brother he begrudgingly admired — and yet, impossibly, it was. 

“I died?” He whispered.

“Yes,” Thor replied, watching his brother closely. 

“Thanos killed me?”

“Yes.” 

Loki nodded. It was his turn to stave off an impending psychotic break. _Norns_, he thought, _what I wouldn’t trade for asgardian liquor right now. _He would give anything to be blissfully drunk again, to be dreaming, to run, to be anywhere but _here_.

Instead, he asked, “What year is it?”

Thor’s brows furrowed at the question. He opened his mouth and closed it again, looking at his brother as if he could see how fragile he was in this moment. As if he could see how the answer would affect him. 

“2024,” he replied softly. “Last time I checked.” 

Loki promptly threw up at his brother’s feet. 


	3. Breakfast Squabbles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really wanted an excuse to write a scene with the guardians. The found family dynamic REMAINS superior!!!

When Loki awoke, his head was pounding, and the room was unnaturally bright. He groaned, nearly falling off the hammock, as he sat up and massaged his temples. He paused upon seeing the note scrawled on floor between his feet.

**LOKI, **it read. **COME OUTSIDE WHEN YOU’VE AWAKEN. I WOULD LIKE FOR YOU TO MEET MY CREW. **

The previous night’s events came back to him in a nightmarish rush. The party. This ship. Thor, who was apparently not alone. And his own supposed death. He resisted the urge to collapse back into a dreamless sleep — there were matters to attend to. Loki needed the tesseract, and off this vessel immediately. 

It was with all the conviction of a man on a mission that the god of mischief stormed out of the room and into what he could only describe as a peculiar breakfast scene. His composure nearly broke. There were six individuals scattered about the space before him. 

A humanoid, the loudest of the bunch, stood off towards a control bay. He was pale and broad-shouldered, face flushed as he gestured wildly at the being in front of him, screaming about wrong coordinates. The alien being yelled at was doing an admirable job of ignoring the noise. He was all muscle, built like rock with red markings spiraling across his skin, and intimidating silence — Loki admitted that he looked like a formidable opponent. However, the image was distorted somewhat by the bag of chips he carried and the way he so clearly stared at a woman. 

She sat across the room, contentedly eating whatever green sludge resided in her bowl. Her eyes were entirely black, and two antennae grew out of her forehead.

Across the table from her sat Thor. In the light, he looked much more put together — a collared breastplate gleaming, a scarred eyepatch over his wound, and a deep laugh escaping his belly. A similar bowl of questionable soup sat untouched before him, as he listened intently to the furry creature speaking to him. Loki realized that it was a raccoon. The animal clutched a chipped teacup in its claws, and drank deeply, wiping his maw as he leapt into a new joke. Something about a fellow named Quill and a dance off, whatever the tale, it was enough to elicit another deep laugh from his brother. And next to the talking mammal lounged a medium sized tree. Loki was momentarily stunned — he was sure the Groots’ were extinct. That’s what he had learned in class anyway. A fine layer of moss was growing out the top of its head, thick stumps for legs were crossed on the table, and the twigs that appeared to be its arms were twined around a handheld device, the brightness of the screen illuminating the tree’s focused eyes. 

Loki took in the strange bunch, shocked, but not at all surprised. _Thor always did have a knack for collecting strays_, he thought. 

It was Thor who noticed his presence first. His gaze had drifted away from the raccoon and widened upon seeing Loki. Surprise melted into warmth as he announced, “Hello, brother.” 

At this, everyone in the room turned to look at him. He instinctively stood straighter, debating wether to deal the crew a withering glare, or lay on his princely charms. The result of his indecision was an arrogant smirk. 

He was met with confusion (the two men by the controls), curiosity (the woman and the raccoon), and complete indifference (the tree). 

“Hello, Thor,” Loki replied, taking a dignified seat next to him. 

The human was the first to speak. “Um, excuse me,” he called, coming down the steps two at a time to stand before the table. “Who is this?” He asked pointedly at Thor. 

“Why, it’s Loki!” His brother beamed, eating a spoonful of sludge. “I told you about his arrival, Quail, didn’t I?” 

“No,” the man, Quail, replied curtly. “You didn’t. You told nobody about this.” 

“I knew,” the raccoon chimed in, taking another sip from his cup. 

Quail all but exploded. He turned on the animal, unable to restrain his anger, “You what?” 

“The rabbit is correct,” Thor said matter-of-factly. Loki, meanwhile, was pleasantly amused. Not only by his brother’s stupidity, but that of the crew he had amassed. 

“Why didn’t you tell us — _me_, your captain!” The man shouted. 

Loki arched an eyebrow at his brother. _Captain?_ His eyes said. 

His brother lightly shook his head in answer. The gesture saying, _no, but we let him believe so for his own sake. _

“Sorry, _captain_,” the raccoon mocked. “I thought it was need to know information.” 

Loki laughed at the jab, despite his better judgement, surprising himself and the people around him. 

“Well,” Quail said, first to break the stunned silence. “Welcome aboard, Loki. My name’s Quill.” He extended his hand, immediately retracting it when the god raised a disdainful brow. The man cleared his throat and, if Loki was not mistaken, _deepened_ his voice before adding, “I’m the captain.”

Loki almost snickered. He could see why his brother called him Quail. 

Quill could sense the oncoming silence, and plowed forward anyway. “Since my crew has all at once decided to _not_ run their mouths,” he barked, glaring at everyone. “Let me introduce you.” 

“That,” he said, pointing at the stoic warrior at the controls, “is Drax.”

“The Destroyer,” Drax added, keeping his gaze fixed on Loki as he slowly raised a chip to his mouth. “You seem poisonous,” he said.

“An astute observation” Loki replied, flashing a devilish grin. 

Deeming it the end of that conversation, Quill turned their attention to the woman. “That’s Mantis.”

“Hi,” she said brightly, already scooting closer to the group and extending her pale hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Loki was about to indulge her greeting when the raccoon slapped his hand away.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the animal grumbled as the god summoned his dagger. The raccoon continued, before Loki had a chance to punish his insolence, “she’s just trying to get a read on you.”

The woman’s face crumbled and her antennae visibly drooped.

“A read?” Loki asked, curiosity outweighing his anger for the time being. 

“She’s an empath,” the creature answered, taking another sip from his cup. His eyes peeked over the rim at the glaring god. “And something tells me you’re not a fan of people poking around inside your head.” 

“You assume correctly,” Loki confirmed, pointing a deliberate look at Mantis. He made a mental note to avoid close contact. 

She pouted before returning to her food. “The puppy’s no fun.” 

“For the record,” the small animal griped. “I am _not_ a puppy, or a rabbit,” he clarified, looking pointedly at Thor, who at the moment was preoccupied with his breakfast. “I’m a raccoon.”

“I can see that,” Loki deadpanned. 

“Good! You have a brain and _two_ working eyes. I’m Rocket,” he said by way of introduction. “You have anything of value?” 

Loki narrowed his eyes at the furry creature, thinking he referred to the tesseract. “No,” he replied cooly, “why do you ask?”

“I’m in the business of trading things.”

“_Stealing things_,” Quill coughed. 

“Oh?” Loki asked, intrigued. 

A wicked gleam entered Rocket’s eyes, one the god knew all to well. “That dagger at your hip looks nice. What do you want for it?”

The god’s eyes widened as he’d forgotten that he even summoned the weapon, let alone threw an illusion over it. _Norns,_ he thought as he looked down at himself, _I’m still wearing a blasted tuxedo. _He flipped the coat over the blade immediately and righted himself in the chair.

“It’s not for sale,” he answered, his tone inviting no further questions.

The raccoon stared up at him, beady eyes squinting and whiskers twitching as he waited for the god to budge. When he didn’t, Rocket conceded, looking away. “Fine,” he growled. “I can respect that.” 

“Besides,” he added, a new pep in his step. “You haven’t met the whole crew yet.” He stopped atop the tree’s legs, patting its bark. “This is-”

“I am Groot,” the tree finished, his voice a low timbre. He glanced up from his screen to peer at Loki. 

“Amazing,” the god replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I was under the impression that your species had gone extinct. Can you-?”

“I am _Groot_,” he responded, promptly dismissing Loki. He returned to his device, and that was the end of the conversation. 

Thor finally deigned to look up from his meal, Rocket sighed, and Loki, for what seemed like the millionth time in the past 24 hours, did not know how to react. No one had ever dared to speak to him in such a manner, and he didn’t know whether to be furious or impressed. It varied from moment to moment as he processed the words. 

His brother watched him closely, sparing quick glances at Groot in warning, who was to engrossed in a game to pay attention. “Loki,” Thor began cautiously. “Take no offense, he’s just a teen-”

If there was one thing Loki despised more than being insulted, it was being ordered by his dimwit brother. “How dare you?” He shouted. 

Again, the room stilled around him. The god was met with shocked and wary stares in equal measure. The only sound was Drax’s slow and steady munching of a chip. 

Loki could feel vein on his forehead twitch. 

“Listen,” Rocket said. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Oh, I know _exactly_ what he meant,” the god snapped. “And who are you to defend him?” He asked, quirking a brow at the animal. “Is he your ward?”

“My what?”

“Is he your responsibility, is what my brother is trying to ask,” Thor supplied. 

The raccoon scoffed. “Sure,” he replied. “He’s mine to look after.” 

Groot rolled his eyes.

“Then I suggest,” Loki began, “that you get your tree under control.” 

“Hey now,” Rocket growled, brows furrowed as he hopped off Groot’s leg. 

Loki invited the advancement. Craved the confrontation. Already, his hand was inching towards his dagger. 

“Brother,” Thor called. “May I have a word?” 

The question sliced through the tension in the room, effectively diffusing Loki’s spirit. _The last thing I need is a lecture,_ he thought. Slowly, he became aware of the weapons pointed at him. Quill steadily aiming a blaster, Drax wielding two curved blades, and even Mantis brandishing what looked like a small pistol. Groot simply shot him a glare that promised a fight. _But so be it_, Loki thought, letting the anger bleed out of him.

“If you insist, brother,” he sighed. “May we have the room?” He directed at Quill. 

The man visibly paled, not wanting his fragile title more undermined than it already was, and not wanting to insight more of the god’s wrath. Loki delighted in his small torment. 

“That won’t be necessary,” Thor replied, rising from his seat. “Follow me.” 

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes at his brother’s niceties, but followed Thor back into his room nonetheless. As soon as the door shut behind him, he was met with his brother’s cool stare, his eye the dark color of a rolling storm. 

“What are you still doing here?” Thor thundered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing absolutely no research for this fic, so if it sounds wrong, it probably is.


	4. The Son's of Odin

“What am _I_ doing here?” Loki shot back. “I could very well ask _you_ the same question, brother. Tell me, what place does the favorite prince of Asgard have amongst this _filth_?” He didn’t miss how Thor winced at the words, but still, he continued, “it's unbecoming.” 

“I’m here helping the Guardians find their friend,” his brother answered evenly. 

“The who?”

“The Guardians,” Thor explained. “Of the Galaxy.” 

Loki threw his head back and laughed. Tears were beginning to bead at the corner of his eyes when his gaze landed back on Thor, who continued to glare. “No,” Loki gaped. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

“Afraid not,” Thor replied. 

“Well, there goes the nine realms,” Loki sighed, making his way over to an overturned crate. “We’re doomed.” 

The corners of Thors lips turned up slightly as he fought a smile. “You haven’t answered my question, brother.” 

Loki sat, stretching out his legs and making himself comfortable before responding. “And what question is that?” 

“What are you still doing here?” Thor repeated, persistent to a fault. 

Loki scoffed. “Am I not allowed to enjoy and seek out my brother’s company?”

“You never have before.” 

“Well,” he quipped. “There’s always a first time for everything, or so the humans say.”

“Loki,” his brother warned. “You’re clearly not where you belong.”

The words hurt more than Loki cared to admit. Thor had never been one to deal with family problems head on, and Loki was rather annoyed that he’d managed to get stuck with somber and serious version of his brother that did. 

“And what if I like it here?” He asked mockingly. “What if I stay?”

Thor’s jaw twitched. “You won’t.”

“Why is that?”

The god of thunder stared at the god of mischief, long and hard. Emotions stirred behind his eyes like storm clouds, and Loki couldn’t even begin to decipher them. 

“A lot has happened, brother,” Thor finally spoke. “Terrible things since I last saw you, and things I am sure you have yet to experience.” He shot him a sidelong glance. “If you ever will experience them.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Come off it, Thor. You never were one for riddles.”

Thor didn’t take the bait. When no response came, Loki turned to see his brother hunched over, staring at the floor with his hands laced behind his neck. 

“What has happened in my absence?” He asked, unknowingly leaning towards Thor. 

“What do you last remember?” His brother asked suddenly, jerking his head up and meeting Loki’s questioning gaze. 

He couldn’t be sure, but Loki was sure that Thor’s eye shone with tears. He spokes his next words slowly, afraid that the wrong words now may set his brother off, or worse, make him disappear. 

“Thor, what’s happened?”

He ignored the question. “What do you remember, Loki?” Thor persisted. “When did you last see me? The version of myself from your universe.” 

“_My_ universe?” 

“Don’t be daft,” Thor growled. “You know just as well as I what is happening here.” 

“No,” Loki lied, leaning back. “I’m afraid you’ll have it to explain it to me.” 

“No, I don’t,” he sighed. His brother looked directly at him now, one blue eye tenderly watching him, dedicating his every move and expression to memory. “You may not be the brother I lost, but you _are_ my brother,” he said. “You are Loki, son of Odin and prince of Asgard. Foolishness does not suit you. Now, answer the question.” 

Loki stared at Thor, knuckles white as he braced them on his knees. “You were with the avengers,” he began. “I was attacking New York. Your team succeeded and my invasion was stopped-”

“Norns,” Thor cursed. “That was years ago.” 

“Don’t interrupt me again,” Loki snapped. “As I was saying, I was stopped, and then something _strange_ happened.” 

Thor watched as a grin split his brother’s face, body tensing as old defenses rose to the surface. 

“As I was being transferred, to some prison I suppose,” Loki continued, a serpentine glint in his eyes now. “Stark collapsed. If memory serves correctly, _you_ were the one to revive him. With mjölnir, no less. It really is quite a nifty hammer you possess.” He glanced around the cramped room — the guardians, not expecting the added company of one norse god, had set Thor up in one of Rocket’s storage spaces — searching. “Where is it, anyway?” He asked, craning his neck to look behind a box of damaged weapons. “It’s been on my mind since I’ve arrived.” 

“You could say I gave it away,” Thor answered. 

Loki’s eyebrow quirked up expectantly. This version of his brother was certainly more intriguing than the one he left behind. 

“A story for another time,” the one-eyed god replied knowingly. “Besides,” he smiled, “I have something better now.” 

“Better than mjölnir?” Loki gaped. 

“Yes,” Thor affirmed. “It is a mighty weapon indeed, but I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.” Loki’s lips pursed, disappointed, and it spurred his brother on. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed this diversion of yours,” he said, noting the twitch in Loki’s temple. “You have a story to finish, brother. What happened after you were captured?” 

Loki was caught off guard by his brother’s directness, and thoroughly annoyed. He chose his next words carefully. “I escaped, of course,” he scoffed, the practiced arrogance of a neglected prince rolling off his tongue easily. 

“How?” Thor asked. He braced his head on fisted hands as he leaned forward, peering at his brother intently. Loki could swear that he felt the phantom eye behind the patch starring into his very soul. 

“The usual tricks,” he answered smoothly. “Your little rescue operation made for a perfect distraction. I suppose a thank you is in order.” 

Thor laughed, a thundering sound that shattered the tension in the room. “There’s no need for that, Loki. This encounter is strange enough as it is.”

Loki’s shoulders relaxed as his brother laid back into his hammock, the interrogation over. Thor closed his eye, stretched, and crossed his arms behind his head. Loki took the moment to stare at his brother. This new, older and battered version of him at least. Time had been hard on him, that much was clear. His gaze, again, was drawn towards the mangled eye patch. He’d never seen his brother with such a wound, didn’t even _know_ that a such an infliction could be permanent. Thor had always been a quick healer, and if anything was too serious, surely a royal healer could fix it. 

_Why hasn’t he healed?_ Loki thought. _Why does he-_

“Your staring” he spoke, eye still closed. 

“It’s the eye patch,” Loki answered honestly. 

At this, Thor peeked over at him. “I suggest you choose your next words carefully, brother.”

“You look like father.” 

Loki didn’t miss how his brother’s jaw tensed, nor did he miss the opportunity to be a nuisance. “Oh, did I strike a nerve?” He smirked. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Thor answered bluntly. He shut his eye again — a dismissal. 

“You’re no fun,” Loki groaned, knocking his head back against the wall. 

“My sincerest apologies for not being a more entertaining host,” Thor drawled, placing his hand over his heart mockingly.

Loki chuckled. “Why do you call that man Quail,” he quipped suddenly. “It’s not like you to forget names.” 

Thor opened his eye and grinned. “I don’t.” He sat up now, reanimated with a special type of mirth, one Loki was very familiar with. “I know his name, but it’s fun to see him get all red. The rabbit and I currently have a wager to see how long I can get away with it-”

“Him too,” Loki interjected. “He’s a raccoon.”

“Yes,” his brother answered easily, “but he reminds me of a rabbit.” 

“Who am I to argue with that logic,” Loki replied, rolling his eyes. When they landed on Thor again, he looked at him appraisingly. “You’ve grown more mischievous in my absence,” he said, the words forming a quiet vortex between them. 

Thor looked down at the ground before answering, boots tracing his message from earlier as the bittersweet light of memory shone behind his eye. “You give me too much credit, Loki,” he whispered. “It’s only light teasing.” He looked up at him then, “and I learned from the best.”

Loki could feel the stirring of some emotion beginning in his chest, and looked away quickly, not wanting his face to betray him. _I need to get off this ship,_ he thought in a panic. Again, he was prompted to look around the space, but there was nothing but discarded weapons and boxes. Boxes filled with broken weapons and scraps of metal he assumed had once been weapons. And his brother, always his brother, shining like a beacon anywhere he went, regardless of the context. Loki could feel the pull of his gravity even now and stood up, pacing as he tried to ignore it.

_What I _need _is the tesseract, _he thought. _It’s a glowing cube, for Odin’s sake!_ He briefly contemplated whether or not he could get away with crouching and looking underneath his brothers hammock, but decided against it when he couldn’t conjure up a reasonable excuse. _It shouldn’t be this difficult._

Thor watched all of this with a slight smile which, had Loki been paying attention, spoke of knowing something he didn’t. The god of thunder opened his mouth to say something when a series of hurried knocks hit the door.

“Prepare for landing,” Quill called, his quick steps threatening to drown out the last of his excited words. 

“For what?” Loki snapped, irritated. 

“Mantis needs to use the bathroom,” Rocket said.

“He lies,” she hissed. 

“We’re stopping for fuel,” Drax explained. 

“Fine,” Loki mumbled, dragging his fingers through his hair.

Thor stood and made his way over to him, clasping his shoulder as he said, “patience, brother. I think they’ve found a lead.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already updated the overall summaries for this fic, and my good omens series, but I'm going to start updating ever other week! I'm moving into my apartment this weekend and getting ready for school to start up again, so times are getting hectic and I want to give myself enough to deliver quality content for you guys. Hopefully I can start putting out longer chapters!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Please spare a thought, comment, or anything really! I thrive off feedback <3


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